and if I bleed (you'll be the last to know)
by Princess Electra
Summary: He wouldn't be Gellert if he coloured within the lines. And Albus kind of loves him for it; his life was so mundane, so confining, before Gellert Grindelwald.


Dark clouds crawl ominously, warning them of the impending thunderstorm. Neither pays any attention, far too absorbed in their thrilling standoff. The younger man wears a slightly arrogant smirk; there is a wild delight in the quirked upturn of his lips, and his asymmetrical eyes are filled with mischief. His older companion doesn't smile, but there is amusement in the twinkling blue eyes.

"You have a twig in your hair," says Albus, his wand pointed steadily at his opponent's chest.

There is a small twitch, just the barest, but it's enough.

His hex doesn't hit square on, but it grazes Gellert on the left thigh. There is a soft hiss, and his opponent drops to one knee. He tries to press his advantage, but his spell is met by a wordlessly generated shield. He is impressed but unflustered.

Thick vines wrap around Gellert's leg - effects of his well-timed hex. He smiles a little, sensing his impending victory. After all of their duels, he still has a few tricks up his sleeves - because Gellert is brilliant and adaptable, but the younger man did not know all of his methods (and he did not know how to counter this one).

There is no capitulation in the handsome face, however, even as Albus advances on him one jinx after another.

"Do you yield?" he asks Gellert.

There is a wickedness to the coy smile that Gellert throws at him.

"_Crucio_!"

He is too shocked to even move, and the curse hits him square in the chest. He feels a sharp jolt, not exactly painful, but more of a quick sting; it passes quickly. He drops his wand out of sheer surprise more than anything.

He stands completely still, agape at what just transpired. He distantly registers that Gellert is laughing - it's a cruelly joyous sound. He stares at him - Gellert's handsome face is flushed from exertion (the errant twig is still lodged in his slightly mussed blond hair) - and for the first time since they met, he is completely unaffected by his beauty.

The dark clouds above crackle with tension; it's barely noon but the ominous lighting mimics dusk. He finally finds his voice.

"What the _hell_ was that?" he demands furiously. Rolling thunder accompanies his accusation. "You used an Unforgivable Curse!"

Gellert has at last freed himself from the vines, carefully burning away the last piece that had wrapped itself around his foot. He approaches Albus, and his smile turns a little sheepish.

"In my defense, you tried to distract me," he huffs. "If you're going to play dirty - "

"An _Unforgivable_ Curse," Albus emphasizes, unimpressed. "Gellert, you used the Cruciatus Curse on _me_," he adds, and more than a little hurt colours his voice.

To his credit, the smile slides away, washing away with the falling rain that descends upon them, and Gellert adopts a more contrite expression. "I _didn't_," he protests. "Come on, Albus. You barely felt that - I've caused you more pain with the Disarming spell."

Albus glares. The rain pelts into his eyes. Maybe a few of the drops are tears of disbelief, but he has no way of knowing.

"You know that I _couldn't_," Gellert says earnestly. "I _wouldn't_ hurt you, not really. You had the upper hand. I only did it because I knew it would throw you off."

"That isn't the point," he hisses. "There is a reason why those curses are banned! If someone finds out - "

"No one will find out," counters Gellert. He places a warm hand on Albus's chest - in the same place where his curse had hit. "It would have never worked, you know." He leans in, and his lips are millimetres away from Albus's. His breath is warm in the cold rain; the scent of pumpkin pie lingers. "You have to _mean_ it. Even if I could perform the Cruciatus Curse, it would never work on you."

Albus gives him a long sigh, but his anger is already starting to dissipate. He knows that Gellert is telling the truth: he did not intend to torture or cause pain. He still didn't like how quickly Gellert turned to one of the darkest curses, even if the objective was only to shock his opponent - to win.

But Gellert never followed the rules. He remembers one of their first duels. Again, he should have won, but the exasperating blond tackled - _physically_ tackled - him, and he landed breathlessly on his back. In the next second, warm lips were on his, and a wandering hand tugged at his waistcoat; one second, the devilish fingers were stroking shamelessly against his exposed stomach, and in the next, the same sinful fingers adeptly relieved him of his wand. He hadn't really cared; he was lost in a sea of gold hair, chiselled lines, and soft hands.

He wouldn't be Gellert if he coloured within the lines. And Albus kind of loves him for it; his life was so mundane, so _confining_, before Gellert Grindelwald. No one pushed him the way Gellert did. (No one understood him the way he did.)

"I could never hurt you," says Gellert.

He is standing close enough that his body heat is nearly scorching. His mismatched eyes are bright and piercing. After a beat, his arms wrap around Albus, and a gentle hand runs through the thick auburn hair.

Albus kisses him fiercely. The storm rages around them, but he hardly notices.

* * *

They are huddled under blankets in Gellert's room at Professor Bagshot's house. Albus is shivering - repercussions from spending hours outside in the rain.

Gellert shuffles closer, earning a grateful smile from Albus. He whispers a warming spell for good measure.

"All we need is chocolate," declares Albus, closing his eyes with a content sigh.

"You do realize that only works with Dementors," replies Gellert, amused.

This earns a chuckle from Albus. "Not for warming! I just want chocolate."

Gellert is constantly amazed by his ridiculously sweet tooth. He rolls his eyes but mutters a quiet Summoning spell.

Curious, Albus opens his eyes again. Two wrapped packages fly towards them from the parchment-covered desk. A few papers are knocked to the floor, probably letters from Albus.

"Chocolate Frogs!" he enthuses, drawing an affectionate smile from Gellert. He opens one of them, and the accompanying card falls out. "I got Merlin again."

He is already biting into his frog when Gellert reveals his card.

"How ironic," remarks Gellert. "Rather fitting."

_Morgan le Fay was the queen of Avalon and a skilled healer. She is best remembered as the Dark sorceress who was King Arthur's half sister and an enemy of Merlin._

"What are the odds," replies Albus with a chuckle.

He devours the rest of his frog, and a new thought strikes him. "Gellert, do you think there will be cards of you and me someday?"

He feels the warm body shift next to him. Gellert plants the lightest kiss on his nose in a rare show of playfulness; his golden hair tickles against Albus's cheek.

"Of course," he says confidently, tossing aside Morgan le Fay's sombre face. "We will be together on the card."

The evening air is cold, but Albus is no longer shivering. He sidles closer to Gellert. In that very moment, he had not a single Galleon to his name, his sister's outbursts were escalating, and his brother was constantly furious with him, yet somehow - in this bed, next to this man - thinking about the future only brings him warm reassurance.

* * *

**Author Notes**: Am I stuck in the summer of 1899? After all this time? Always. When I realized that the first canon reference to their relationship was Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card in the Philosopher's Stone… it gave me feels.

The title is a line from Taylor Swift's Cruel Summer, which is 100% a Grindeldore song. I mean… these lyrics:

_Killing me slow, out the window_

_I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below_

_Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes_

_What doesn't kill me makes me want you more_

Thank you for reading!


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